


Offending the Ghosts of Viscounts Past

by Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold (manka), TightAssets



Series: How to Win a Losing Hand: One-Shots from the Love Story of Varric Tethras and Maria Cadash (Canon Dragon Age Setting) [16]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cadash not Inquisitor, Desk Sex, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Kinktober 2020, NSFW Art, Oral Sex, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Shameless Smut, Teasing, The Ghost of Viscount Dumar Disapproves, Vaginal Sex, Varric Tethras Writes, Varric Tethras' Chest Hair, Viscount Varric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:20:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26898085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manka/pseuds/Cartadwarfwithaheartofgold, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TightAssets/pseuds/TightAssets
Summary: Maria Cadash wakes up in the middle of the night to discover her husband missing and finds him working on his newest novel in the Viscount's office. She teases him for his work ethic and he teases her mercilessly in return.
Relationships: Female Cadash/Varric Tethras, Maria Cadash/Varric Tethras - Relationship
Series: How to Win a Losing Hand: One-Shots from the Love Story of Varric Tethras and Maria Cadash (Canon Dragon Age Setting) [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1896694
Kudos: 16





	Offending the Ghosts of Viscounts Past

**Author's Note:**

> This is a double whammy entry from me and [TightAssets](https://tightassets.tumblr.com/) for [@wickedwithofthewilds](https://wickedwitchofthewilds.tumblr.com/) Kinktober 2020 Prompts and [@scharoux's](https://scharoux.tumblr.com/) [Cozy Autumn Prompts](https://cozy-autumn-prompts.tumblr.com/) event. The prompts are "Teasing" for Kinktober and "Howling Wind" for Cozy Autumn Prompts. Thank you loves for running the event! And thank you TightAssets for your AMAZING smutty art. Please read to the end of the piece to see a BONUS smutty art piece with a little extra bit of humor involved.

The sudden rumble of thunder pulled Maria from deep sleep with brutal suddenness. It was still echoing in the room when her eyes flew open, a sudden pulsing spike in her heart, fingers twitching to reach for a bow that was stashed neatly away and _not_ laying beside her bedroll.

You could take the woman out of lyrium smuggling, apparently, but never take the lyrium smuggling out of the girl. For a moment, she’d thought she was back on the Storm Coast. Back with the Inquisition.

But the smooth silk sheets against her skin, the scent of beeswax candles, the sound of the glass windows rattling in their frames, all reminded her exactly where she was.

_Home_. The Viscount’s Keep, her bedroom, her _bed_ , and beside her…

Maria’s fingers stretched across the mattress, searching in the darkness while she frowned to herself. Besides the heavy platter of rain, the shriek of the wind, and rumble of thunder the bedroom was silent. _Too silent._

Where the _fuck_ was her husband?

“Varric?” She whispered into the darkness, peering at the darker shapes of furniture stark against the gloom.

No response. She slid from beneath her blankets, cool air and the storm’s electricity prickling her bare skin. She stretched her hand out towards one of the towering posts at the corner of their bed and snatched her abandoned robe off of it, throwing it over her shoulders while she crept through the darkness on the balls of her feet.

Their bedroom emptied into their sitting room, awash in the same eerie silence. Thanks to the banked coals in the fireplace, she could see their abandoned card game, their empty glasses, and one of her books on her favorite chair. She crossed the space in a moment, wrenching the next door open.

The guard outside let out a strangled yelp of shock, almost toppling over in her effort to bow _and_ curtsy at the same time. “Maker’s _breath_. My lady! I apologize. You startled-, I mean, I didn’t hear-”

It wasn’t the first guard she’d snuck up on, it wouldn’t be the last. She waved away the sputtering with a sunny grin, even as another crack of thunder shattered the silence. “Where’s Varric?”

Perhaps the flash of lightning illuminated her grin and made her far more frightening than she _wanted_ to be, because the poor woman blanched under her scrutiny. “I-uh, I’m not sure ma’am. He said he was going downstairs to not wake you.”

Ancestors help him if she had to search the whole damn keep for him. “Right. Well, I’ll go drag him back to bed then. Carry on.”

“But…” The guard looked back at their living quarters, as if considering the futility of guarding an empty room.

Maria took the chance to flee into the shadows before she had to answer that question.

Viscount Tethras really could be _anywhere_ within the Keep. Maria suspected he took great pleasure in the shocked looks he received when he showed up in the most unlikely places. The kitchens for a mid-morning snack, the barracks to bother Aveline in the middle of the afternoon, the laundry looking for his favorite shirt before dinner in the evening. Always with that same blighted charm that made every person within ten miles trip over themselves to listen to his stories.

Maria _refused_ to admit how attractive she found it.

But if Varric left her in the middle of the night and didn’t return, there were only a few places she’d guess he’d be. And, of course, she was correct right off the bat. Say what you would about Varric, but he was _consistent_.

Consistently driven to write whatever popped into his head at any hour of the night, anyway.

Maria paused in the door to his office, shivering in her thin robe, and took in the sight of her husband illuminated by the lanterns and crackling fire. Varric’s quill flew across the paper. It never ceased to amaze her _how_ neatly every single letter was formed even with the speed he moved, the scratch of his pen seemed never-ending, soothing almost. His lips moved as he wrote, like he was _reading_ his story to himself.

A sudden lurch of heat almost stole her breath away, blooming in her stomach and making every nerve in her skin burst to life with remembered sensation. There were uses beyond holding those delicate quills of his for his broad, rough hands, and even _better_ ones for that sinfully clever mouth.

It was another thing she’d never admit, but she always got this way when she watched him write. There was just something so… _sexy_ about it.

Which didn’t quite erase her annoyance at being dragged from her warm bed to chase him down in the middle of the night, but did take the edge off it even if that edge had simply been replaced with something _much sharper_. Something Varric could _certainly_ take care of since she’d traipsed the whole way down here.

She was such a good, loving wife she even waited until he picked the quill up and moved to dunk it back in the inkwell before she huffed in feigned displeasure. “Funny that. I’m _almost_ certain this isn’t our bedroom.”

Varric’s sure hand stayed steady, but she saw his shoulder jolt like he was reaching for the crossbow on the mantle in their rooms instead of down here. His eyes swung to her in the door in a heartbeat, his lips quirking into an exasperated smile. “Andraste’s ass, Princess. You’re gonna give me a heart attack wandering around in _that_.”

“In this old thing?” She murmured, running her palm down the short silk, lingering in the dip of her waist while meeting his smile with a smirk of her own.

Varric’s eyes darkened, hand withdrawing from the quill, leaving it neatly in the bottle. He outstretched his hand, collapsing back into his chair with a look of smug satisfaction. “Come here, beautiful.”

She didn’t need to be asked twice. She stepped over the threshold, closing the door behind her with an audible click. Down here, layers of stone surrounding them, the rumble of thunder seemed much further away. This, after all, was the heart of Kirkwall.

Like Varric himself was.

And he was watching her hands play with the knot tying her robe closed. With a deft twist of her fingers, she pulled the silk tie loose, shrugging her shoulders to let the whole thing fall in one elegant motion.

Varric visibly swallowed, his eyes burning a path across all her exposed pale skin. They drifted over the soft slope of her abdomen, the lush curve of her thighs, lingering on the curls covering her slit before searing up to the breasts that rose and fell with her breath.

“What are you writing?” Maria asked, drawing his gaze back to her face.

Varric grinned like a boy on Satinalia. “You know, I was just getting to the good bits. I could use a bit of inspiration.”

Her lips curled into a wolfish smile mirrored by him. She left the robe abandoned on the stones, swaggering towards the desk with an exaggerated roll of her hips that drew his gaze back to them like a fish helpless on her hook.

He expected her to plop right into his lap. He hadn’t bothered to do more than slip on a pair of breeches and his own dressing robe before coming down here to spill words onto parchment. And it would be _very_ easy to make herself comfortable on his lap, tangle her hands in his hair, and take him for a ride in the Viscount’s study.

It wouldn’t even be the first time. If the ghost of Viscount Dumar haunted the Keep, he’d seen her splayed tits over ass on many surfaces. She was sure he disapproved of the amount of fun his scandalous successor and his inappropriate choice of wife had in his old office.

She was also quite sure she didn’t give a damn.

Maria swept Varric’s papers neatly off to one side, careful of the drying ink while also being mindful of the nice view Varric had when she bent over the large desk to clear it. She heard the swish of fabric indicating his intent to reach for her and swiveled quickly, hoisting herself up onto the polished surface and crossing her shapely legs at the knee.

Varric’s arm fell back to his side with a boyishly apologetic grin at being caught _almost_ red handed. One that caused an odd flutter underneath her ribs and the sudden urge to place a soft kiss on the center of his forehead.

Instead she adopted the most _severe_ scowl she could summon, ruined only by the bubbling playfulness she couldn’t quite swallow. “Explain to me, serah, why I am _yet again_ chasing my husband all over this keep?”

Her teasing sparked a joyful glimmer in Varric’s eyes, one that let her know immediately he was going to rise to the challenge. “You know how grumpy you are when Aveline wakes us up for emergencies in the middle of the night? I prefer to avoid that murderous look of yours directed at me when I can help it, Princess.”

“If you didn’t _talk_ to yourself when you’re writing, you wouldn’t wake me up.”

“Beautiful, if I didn’t talk to myself when I was writing how would I get the characters right?”

She snorted a half laugh, rolling her eyes to the vaulted ceiling. In the moment she looked away, Varric lunged to the edge of his seat, placing one heavy hand on her knee like a promise.

“Want me to make it up to you, Princess?” He asked, his palm slowly inching up her bare thigh. “Cause it’d be my pleasure. And yours.”

His low voice, rumbling at the edges, set the spark inside her into raging inferno. She uncrossed her legs in blatant, wanton invitation. Varric stood, the chair scraping back as he shoved it aside. One shrug of his broad shoulders had his own dressing robe falling free, exposing all the hard planes of his muscles and that fine chest hair of his. While his hands dropped to his breeches, Maria took the time to let her own hands trail down the solid bulk of his body. She dug her fingers into the firm flesh and bit back a thrilled moan.

She was a lucky fucking woman, she’d say that.

His pants fell and he stepped into the space between her knees, both hands returning to run up her thighs before digging into the plump fresh of her ass and dragging her closer to the edge of the desk with a smirk that promised nothing but trouble.

Maria widened her eyes and softened her voice to the sweetest, most innocent gasp she could make. “We’re lucky this desk is so sturdy.”

“Maker bless Viscount Dumar and his fine taste in well made office furniture.” Varric rasped.

Maria made a small hum of agreement. The thick hair on Varric’s chest shimmered in the candlelight, tapering down over his abdomen until it flared into a nest of neat curls surrounding his cock, already half hard for her.

“Like what you see?” Varric taunted, kneading the flesh of her ass. “I can take a step back, let you get a nice, long-”

“Hard?” Maria breathed, skating her fingers over the taut skin of his stomach. He hissed, fingers digging just the right side of too painfully into her curves.

“A long, hard look.” He finished as her fingers carded through his chest hair. “I’ll even flex a little, just for you.”

In one sudden movement, she hooked her fingers through that _ridiculous_ chain of his, tugging it up and forcing his chin with it. She met his daring grin with one of her own, using his necklace to tug his lips closer to hers.

“I’m more interested in what that famous silver tongue of yours can do, Varric.” She whispered.

The dangerous, intense passion in Varric’s eyes was enough to make her dizzy before he greedily pressed his mouth to hers. The storm of desire in that kiss was enough to make her heart race and her grip slacken. She barely even registered him pushing her knees farther apart until she felt his rough fingertips trailing up the inside of her thighs.

She broke the kiss with a sharp gasp that made Varric chuckle, looking down to see his fingers dancing over her sensitive skin.

“For you, Princess, _anything_.” He promised.

His searing lips dropped to her jaw, peppering kisses down her throat. He sucked a bruising kiss over her hammering pulse, one that made her bite back a whimper that nearly escaped.

“Is that the game tonight, Maria?” Varric’s hot breath against her shoulder made her shiver. “You want me to make you sing?”

_Yes_. Yes, that was _exactly_ what she wanted.

“I’m hearing a lot of talk, not seeing a lot of action.” She pointed out. Varric’s teeth sunk insistently into her shoulder and Maria bit her lip in response, feeling it bruise and swell.

Varric’s tongue flicked out to soothe the wound before he murmured his answer. “Have it your way, Princess.”

Her only answer was to arch into his touch, to delight in the stubbled jaw brushing over her skin while he sought out his goal. He detoured, as he always did, when he made it to her breasts, like he found them too tempting to pass by. Those broad hands of his pressed gently on the small of her back, forcing her tits out further so he could easily capture one nipple between his lips.

Slick desire rolled in her stomach while Varric’s tongue tormented her mercilessly. She grabbed at the copper hair pulled back from his temples, using it to anchor herself while his other hand cupped the abandoned breast. He ran his rough fingers against the tender point and she rolled her eyes back up to the ceiling.

But she didn’t make a single sound.

Varric redoubled his efforts, sucking and nipping until her hips jerked beyond her control. Her hands shook in his hair, her breathing coming in gasps and pants already. He released her first breast only to switch his attention to the next, pinching the nipple he abandoned.

A strangled moan caught in her throat. Varric paused, delighted eyes lifting to hers. “What was that, Princess?”

“Nothing.” She lied through her teeth.

“Sounded like you’re moaning. Already.” He sounded _unbearably_ smug and if his voice wasn’t so damn sexy, she’d throttle him.

“You getting old and hearing things?”

He chuckled, repeating the pinch on her other nipple. She breathed through her nose, shutting her eyes and focusing on the feel of air in her lungs instead of Varric’s mouth descending _again_ with every intention of driving her crazy.

Her free hand clenched on the edge of the desk, holding on for dear life while Varric tried to unravel the threads of her self control with that sinful tongue. Each flick of his tongue, the gentle pressure of his teeth, the way his free hand was drifting lower and lower…

When he found his way back to her bare thigh he finally relented and gave her enough room to gasp greedily for breath. She ignored the smirk on his face as he watched her. If she could form words, which was quite hard at the moment, she’d knock him down a peg so he didn’t get _too_ full of himself, but...

“You’re shaking.” Varric’s thumbs rubbed small circles on her thighs.

She scoffed breathlessly. “Nothing gets past you, does it?”

“Always liked how sensitive you were.” As if to prove a point, he blew out a stream of hot air across her nipples. Maria bit her lip quickly again.

His laugh sounded like dark chocolate. Smooth and _perfect_. “And I gotta say. Stubborn wasn’t usually my turn on but you wear it well.”

“Liar.” She accused, lips curling in a smile.

At least he had the gall to admit it, even with the same amusement dancing on his face. “Usually.”

For a second, the moment spun between them stretched into an eternity. Maria’s eyes traced the beloved rugged line of Varric’s jaw, his broken nose, the way half his smile always quirked up first when he looked at her. It made something warm settle in her heart, something pure as gold and too delicate for her bloodstained hands to hold.

Then, with a wicked grin and lightning fast reflexes, Varric’s fingers curled into her thighs and _yanked_.

Her back hit the desk with a shocked giggle spilling from her mouth. Varric snickered, but by the time she pushed herself up on her elbows, _he_ was already kneeling. A position that just happened to put his sinful mouth at the same level as her molten core.

He raised an eyebrow and her heart stuttered to a stop. She barely grabbed hold of the edge of the desk again before he began to place light, butterfly kisses up the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. His breath ghosted over her cunt before he pressed equally filthy, and equally _unsatisfying_ , kisses back down the other leg to her knee.

He was going to _kill_ her and she was going to love every minute of it.

His nimble fingers traced patterns that could have been words into her skin, but she couldn’t concentrate enough to follow them. His stubble rasped against her skin, reminding her of the unfulfilled promise of his mouth.

“You’re so wet, Princess.” He whispered, almost in awe. “What I wouldn’t give to taste you.”

“Then do it.” She spat between grit teeth, barely suppressing the urge to roll her hips toward his mouth.

“Are you asking?” He asked, sucking another kiss into the sensitive juncture at the back of her knee.

Sodding _hell_.

“Yes!” She wailed, letting go of her pride. “Varric, if you don’t stop teasing me and put that _blighted_ mouth to work right now I _swear_ I will-”

Before she could decide which threat, exactly, she wanted to make his thick fingers slipped into her slick center and curled to apply the slightest hint of pressure to exactly where she needed it. A broken moan escaped her, rattling off the stone walls as she collapsed back onto the sleek wooden desk.

Dumar was gnashing his teeth in the Maker’s bosom, surely, at their sinful shenanigans.

Varric’s voice shook with the lust he’d been keeping carefully hidden. “My pleasure, Maria.”

Varric didn’t just taste her. He _devoured_ her. His tongue traced her slit before it parted the delicate folds, drinking her arousal with enthusiastic enjoyment while his fingers thrust in and out of her quickly enough to steal her breath from her lungs. The tangled knot of desire pulled tight just as Varric’s tongue lightly circled her clit.

The second he used his tongue to lap at the tender bundle of nerves, she screamed his name to the ceiling, their ancestors, and all the ghosts of all the Viscounts that came before with all their stolid, boring, _proper_ wives. Her muscles clenched tight on the fingers stretching her and she shook, tossing her head from side to side while she arched right off the surface.

She collapsed in a limp pile, panting while Varric licked up the mess he’d made between her thighs. He stood moments later, lips shining with her orgasm, eyes blazing. A part of her was impressed by the easy strength with which he pulled her from the desk, settling them both in his chair.

The rest of her was trying to breathe around the sudden bright pulse of lust that came with Varric’s thick cock splitting her open as he seated her on top of him, arranging her limbs to his liking. She moaned, wrapping her arms tight around his neck, scratching at his shoulders.

“Hold on, beautiful.” He rumbled, hands digging into her ass. “You just hold on.”

She barely had time to before he drove into her with enough force to make her gasp. The choked sound turned into another moan when he set a pace just edging on brutal desperation. She hadn’t been the only one teased to the edge of the abyss, apparently, but she wasn’t prepared for Varric to change the angle, canting her forward so he caught her clit on each stroke.

“ _Varric_! _Varric_ I-” She chanted, tugging at his hair.

“That’s it beautiful.” He snarled, punctuating the statement with another snap of his hips. “That’s it. One more time.”

She surrendered completely, succumbing to him like he was the storm howling outside. The only thing she could do was sink her teeth into the lobe of his ear to choke her needy moan as the fire ignited again, rolling through her before she could even fully catch her breath.

“ _Maria-_ ” Varric groaned, thrusting through her second orgasm, before finally sinking into her, burying himself to the hilt and tightening his grip on her body while he filled her. Even when he collapsed back into the chair he simply dragged her with him, tangling his thick fingers in the red hair spilling down her shoulders.

The storm seemed to have blown itself out. She couldn’t hear even the hint of thunder above her hammering heartbeat. She closed her eyes, mumbling against Varric’s neck. “Tease.”

“Takes one to know one.” Varric huffed.

Maria giggled and buried herself further into the cozy nook of Varric’s shoulder before issuing her order. “Come to bed.”

Varric’s palm soothingly ran up the curve of her spine. “Sounds like a hell of a plan, Princess. I’m in.”

**Author's Note:**

> Viscount Dumar disapproves.
> 
> Fine Dwarven Smut Crafts Direct from Pornzammar can be found at [@TightAssets](https://tightassets.tumblr.com/) and [@cartadwarfwithaheartofgold](https://cartadwarfwithaheartofgold.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!


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